Broken Angel
by espertortuga
Summary: Now that the angels have fallen, Castiel has to live with being truly mortal with the loss of his Grace and his connection to heaven. Based on Season 9 Episode 1


A broken angel. A powerless mortal. Put it however you want, this was what Castiel was now. A deep sense of loss lay within, one that affected the vessel housing the now graceless Angel of The Lord; the very essence of the celestial being stripped from his body to serve a purpose that ultimately led to the exile of his brothers and sisters, just as Lucifer had been long ago.

It was never Castiel's intent to hurt anyone ever; only to serve as a beacon for the faithful teachings of God and to help in any way he could.

Somewhere along the path however, the line had skewed and twisted, for him, and for most angels wanting answers, thus creating chaos and anarchy within his home. For the first time in hundreds of years Castiel had witnessed his brothers become corrupt and deceitful in what he believed were the eyes of a God who had abandoned His children.

But through all hardship, all pain and regret, Castiel had never once lost faith in something. Perhaps over time his faith had shifted away from his brethren, but the faith he held from witnessing humanity firsthand only grew stronger as he began interacting with them more and realizing free will didn't always mean corruption and evil.

Now cast out of heaven and powerless, Castiel felt a chill as Metatron's words echoed through his mind. The reality of being mortal was slowly beginning to sink in as he turned towards Dean Winchester and saw the anguish; the heartache that shaped his face into a pained frown as he laid a hand on the shoulder of his sleeping brother, Sam, the younger sibling who was facing his own internal struggles within his weakened mind.

Castiel felt the need to reach out, to heal every flicker of pain and every last scratch and scrape that had plagued the two boys who had taken him in, but in his state he could only watch helplessly and sympathize, and he knew very well that Dean hated getting sympathy, or at least he acted as though it were a sign of weakness.

Castiel sighed and quietly turned his attention to the young prophet sitting at the table, finger touching down onto the Word of God while the other hand held a trembling pencil pressed to a paper with English and Enochian scribbled all across the top. Kevin Tran was a complete mess, but that wasn't to say anyone else in the bunker was perfectly intact either. Sam was resting a lot more than usual, when he was Sam anyway, and not Ezekiel. Castiel was careful not to mention the angel holding the Winchester together for the moment to Sam for fear he would trigger something within him that would cast Ezekiel out. He had promised Dean as well and his mind flashed back to that terrible time when he had destroyed the wall within Sam's mind, allowing the powerful images of Lucifer to drive him to insanity. He remembered feeling the guilt afterword, but for some reason he felt it even stronger now, and it that wasn't the only incident he began to dwell on since his grace had been taken.

Killing his brothers in heaven. Collaborating with Crowley. Betraying Dean's trust by taking the Angel Tablet while almost killing Dean in the process. The pain and guilt felt amplified now, which confused and frustrated the ex-angel as to why now it was hitting him so hard. Then there were the lesser things; the inconveniences. Hunger, thirst, helplessness, the way his vessel now felt even the tiniest amount of discomfort and pain at the slightest things that had never bothered to cross his mind before.

His feet ached from walking. His head still hurt from the wood plank Hael had hit him with and the air in the bunker felt dry and stagnant much to his discomfort. Everything was too overwhelming, especially with Crowley now in the dungeon of the bunker with them. Dean said he was secure, but despite his assurance Castiel still felt uneasy.

He needed some time alone to adjust to this new way of thinking and existing.

Dressed in a hooded sweatshirt, which Dean had mentioned looked better on him than that "dingy old trench-coat," Castiel began making his way to the exit.

"Hey! Just where do you think you're going?" Dean had questioned sternly, standing up from the chair beside his brother.

"I need some fresh air," Castiel replied in his usual low, rough voice.

"Well just crack open a window or something," Dean said gruffly.

Castiel narrowed his eyes at him then turned toward the door. "Look, Cas. I can't afford to have you or anyone here leave this bunker, especially with how crazy things are right now, alright? We got freakin angels out there tryin' to gank us and I'm willing to bet we got a lot off pissed off demons wondering just where the hell Crowley is. We gotta ride this thing through together from now on, so that means no running off to God-knows-where, you got it?"

Castiel still faced the door, but felt Dean eyeing the back of his head. "I'll just be a moment, Dean. I won't go far."

Dean shook his head then opened his mouth to protest some more when Sam suddenly began to stir. "Whoa, whoa, easy there Sammy."

With Dean's attention on Sam and Kevin fully focused on translating the Angel Tablet, Castiel stepped outside into the fresh morning light. He felt cold, and his breath came out in a clouded wisp among the frigid air. Perhaps Dean had been right and he should have stayed indoors. He looked back at the door, but hesitated and stepped further out into the open, walking past the Impala and just around the complex. Too much was on his mind and from what he saw during the times he had observed humans without interfering, walking was a good way of taking your mind off heavy thoughts clouding your senses, despite having spent most of the day before doing just that.

Castiel's radiantly azure eyes followed up a tall pine tree, leading up to the golden hued sunrise above. Streams of light pierced through clouds, making for an almost holy, yet breathtaking, look. Just the night before that same peaceful sky was lit up by hundreds of falling angels being hurtled to Earth, pulled from whatever they were doing, their loved ones, their missions, their home. Once again Castiel had been deceived into thinking his actions, although done in good faith, came at the cost of lives and worst of all his Grace. An indignant feeling of betrayal began to brew within him, but unlike before, he could no longer push past it as easily.

The way the air smelled, the way he felt, everything he touched, it was like experiencing it on a higher setting and it was a bit overwhelming to get used to.

Castiel froze when he heard footsteps behind him. Suspicion washed over him and he felt vulnerable without his powers. It was foolish to venture outside the compound alone as a mortal, he now realized. Castiel's hand cautiously went over his blade and the footsteps stopped.

"There's no need for violence, Castiel."

Castiel quickly turned around and came face to face with the one who had robbed him of his power.

"Metatron," he growled angrily at the angel, pulling his blade out. "Why are you here?"

The shorter bearded man smiled and glanced down at the leaves below him, taking a few steps forward. "I've come to see how your humanity lessons are going."

Castiel looked at him hard, trying to find deeper meaning in his words. It was strange not being able to sense he was an angel. He wasn't able to sense Hael as one either which probably meant he couldn't see demons masking as humans either. Being mortal wasn't exactly comforting in the slightest.

"It's been...burdensome," he replied, not taking his eyes off him.

Metatron laughed and sighed. "Well it has only been a day. You and your brothers have quite a bit to learn before you can see the world for what it truly is. A divine place of beauty and more than just order and structure. You can't grasp what it's like to feel how humanity really is unless you immerse yourself in it, Castiel."

"I have been aiding the Winchesters and helping people for years now," Castiel retorted back.

"Yes, but you've been here as an outsider looking in; a child throwing scraps to his pet every once in a while. You were not one of them." Metatron held out his arms. "But now, Castiel, you are truly on their level. Now you are an equal and you, as well as all your brothers, can finally see why God held a special place for mankind in His heart after He created them. His vision will finally come to light and you will understand that your sacrifice will become recognized as one of the greatest things to ever happen to the angels."

"And what of Heaven? How is this beneficial to those who need to keep order? How can we fight the demons without our powers or defend ourselves against evil when we can't even hold ties to our true home?"

Metatron shook his head and crossed his arms. "Your true home isn't heaven anymore. It's here. And as for fighting against evil, just look at the Winchesters. They get along perfectly well fighting monsters without divine intervention."

"The Winchesters have suffered greatly because of evil. This social experiment you wish to force us into benefits no one. Humanity will only suffer more without our help and evil will only begin to spread further among the world."

Metatron sighed in exasperation. "Give it time. You'll realize soon enough that humanity never needed divine intervention in the first place."

Castiel watched as Metatron vanished leaving only the sound of flapping wings in the air.


End file.
